Fatherhood

Shortly after our train trip a couple months back, Kia took to calling me Tom as often as (or more so than) daddy.  We figure it was because she got used to hearing everyone else call me by name and figured out who I was.  It’s a bit depressing, really, because, hey, she’s my little girl and I want her to call me daddy!  I try to ignore her when she tries to get my attention like that, hoping to break her of the habit, but responding to someone yelling my name is kind of reflex, so hard to do.  Bleh.  At least she’s using the right name for me.  It would be so much worse if she called me “Ted” or “Bob” … or some of the names I get called at work (“long-hair” is one of the polite ones).  ;P

Pacman says “NOM NOM NOM” and so does my shirt.  Stacy’s got on one of her new shirts, which is a nice shade of green.  Nothing real fancy, but it looks good on her.  (Would look better if it had a lower collar… just saying.)  Kia’s shirt, which I love, proudly proclaims that she is a “Self-Rescuing Princess.”  Booyah.  Don’t need no stinkin’ prince charming or Italian plumber, she can take care of herself!